Amuto: Living with Ikuto
by ladydoctor
Summary: Made into a series. Will come up with more creative title later, I promise. The adventures of Amu and Ikuto whilst living together in a cramped apartment, facing problems such as not recording Grey's Anatomy, who ate all the chocolate ice cream and more.


**A/N: At the time I thought ****of this story, it just kind of floated into my head, and then I noticed the similarities to the scene of **_**P.S. I Love You**_**, so I used it to help me when I got stuck. This is dedicated to all of those who put **_**Starry Eyed **_**into their ****favourites****, ****favourited**** me as an author, and put me on alert. I love you all.**

Sorry for the unforgivable delay, hope you guys, er, forgive me! ~

**Dedicated to my favourite person in the world, Keitou-chan. Treat this as your birthday present please. **

"You utter, utter bastard," I shriek, picking up a pillow and throwing it as him.

"I don't need you," I spit at him, as I watch how he reacts to my words, hoping my words pierce him mercilessly and cause him satisfying pain. "I don't need you!" My voice becomes hysterical as it reaches an octave.

"Fine," he yells back, towering over me; a thrill of fear tickled my spine, but I persisted and glared up at him.

"I never loved you anyway," I quickly whisper up at him, before I can feel the guilt pricking at me as I tell this blatant lie.

A flash of hurt quickly appears in his eyes amidst the rage that is lit up inside of them vividly.

"Fine!" he repeats, though I know him too well to know it is anything but, and begins to stride across the room until he was on the other side, twisting the doorknob.

"Where are you going?!" I demand, climbing over the sofa to follow him. "Where you do think you're going?!"

"Out!" he replies angrily, his jaw clenched, his eyes wild and his breathing un-even; I rarely saw him so out of control, and it slightly frightened me.

The door slams loudly, fiercely and it penetrates the atmosphere, making me feel uneasy.

"Take your fucking time!" I scream at the closed door, not sure of whether he could hear me or not.

Then the stillness and emptiness of the apartment hit me, and I suddenly felt desperately lonely; it didn't settle nicely in my stomach, and made me miss him terribly. I wanted his warm arms around me, to listen to me as I apologise, taking back all I had said, and most of all I wanted him to forgive me.

I picture his smile in my mind, his laugh and the warmth of his embrace. Memories flood back, and I remember everything; I remember when he returned after a few years, after managing to contact his father, thus accomplishing his mission, and therefore feeling to more need to stay overseas.

"I missed you," he had eventually admitted after telling the detailed story of his travels.

My teenage heart had spluttered and I had jumped at its sudden action. The memory was so vivid it felt as if my cheeks right now had also glowed crimson, just as they had that night.

He had faced me then, taking one of my hands, and tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. He shuffled closer to me, leaning in and staring into my eyes. Never had I had someone gaze at me so longingly, so intently, so hungrily, meaning that my breath had caught in my throat.

He carried on closing the distance between us, his eyelids half-shut. As his face came closer, I realised his breathing was as uncontrolled as mine.

I closed my eyes and panted in anticipation. He paused just before our lips would have touched, and I whimpered as he stayed there for longer than I would have liked him to.

I heard him laugh quietly, and felt him cup my face with both his hands.

"Look at me," he murmured, and I obliged. As our gazes met each others, his features softened and a small, affectionate smile played on his lips.

"I love you," he whispered, almost painfully. "So, so much."

I gasped as his lips lightly brushed against mine, and he did the same. I wondered why we had to be this way, why the way we felt towards each other was so raw, so pure, it hurt both of us, and I decided it didn't have to.

"Me too," I croaked, and he froze once more. "To the point where it bothers me."

He laughed once more, this time louder, and this time incredulously, as if in relief, so it seemed.

"That's good then," he said against my mouth. "Because that means I can kiss you, right?"

I shut my eyes tightly, breathed heavily and nodded.

And so he did.

Then I'm back in the present, just me, the ticking clock and the TV screen flashing some nonsense in the background.

I stumble across the coffee table, not caring that I knock over most of the contents on top of it, and lunge towards the door.

"Ikuto?" I call frantically. "Ikuto?!"

I fall and trip over, struggling to scramble to my feet and keep up with him, should he be already out of the building.

His name is echoed as I continue to shout it urgently, making my heart twinge as I hear his name over and over again, right after I had just spoken it.

I reach the stairs and begin to recklessly run down them, a bad idea was considering how stupidly clumsy I was.

My left foot caught on something and I felt myself slipping and falling. I instinctively stretch out one of my arms to steady myself with the bar, and miss horribly.

Then I numbly fall right into something hard, but warm. I feel a pair of hands at my shoulders and I blink as I realise my position, and I recognize the pleasant, familiar smell.

"Ikuto...?" I say carefully, looking up to confirm my statement.

His expression is unreadable, and he ducks down his head so that I can look into his eyes easier.

"You retard," he says simply, resting his forehead on mine and finally smiling sadly at me.

"_Ikuto!" _I weep, throwing myself at him like a child racked with guilt after just being scolded; his arms wrap around me tightly, but I don't mind. "I'm sorry!"

"I do love you!" I promise him, still sobbing ungracefully. "I love you more than I love anything in the world even though you're a perverted cat cosplayer."

"The feeling is mutual, you stupid pipsqueak." From his voice I could tell he was still smiling, and it made my heart melt because it meant he didn't hate me and wasn't that annoyed.

There's a moment of silence apart from my quiet sniffles and incoherent mumblings coming from me, and Ikuto occasionally hushing to calm me down; it was different to the stillness of the apartment because he was there, and nothing else mattered when Ikuto was around. He was like a thick ocean I was drowning in, and slowly the world was only a distant muffled, irrelevant noise which I couldn't care less about, because the water was so warm and so soothing that I didn't mind it wrapping itself around me.

"I love you," I remind him.

"I know." he replies calmly, pressing his lips to the top of my head, and I can feel them form a wide smile against my hair. I breathed out a sigh and snuggled closer into his chest; he was so, so warm.

"I'll do my best so that we'll never fight again, I swear."

A door clicks open and our neighbour, Tanaka-san pops out, wearing a frightening scowl, as does his small ginger cat as they both glare at us from his doorway.

"Are you kidding?" he grunts, and his cat meows in agreement. "You'll have another stupid spat next Tuesday."

Ikuto begins to shake with laughter contagiously, and I struggle to choke back my giggles.

"Now I don't mind that you do," he continues, "As long as they stop happening at quarter past two in the morning." His cat lets out another satisfied meow.

"Sorry sir," Ikuto clears his throat. "You know women?" He asks jokily, stroking my hair affectionately.

Tanaka-san shoots daggers at him as if to answer his question, and then slams his door fiercely. "Go to bed!" he yells, and I quickly act, dragging Ikuto back to our apartment.

As we do, I turn to see Ikuto staring at me. He then sighs, defeated.

"Fine," he says reluctantly. "I'm sorry I didn't record Grey's; you can watch it on Living+1 if you want, I'm sure it's on now."

Squealing with delight, I dash in his arms and kiss him passionately. He responds with equal enthusiasm and pushes me onto the sofa. I pull away cautiously, smile, plant a last small kiss loving on his mouth and sit up.

I excitedly change the channel, wriggling in my seat with anticipation.

"I don't see what you see in Sloan anyway," Ikuto mutters, but he's already on the screen, so I'm not even listening.


End file.
